


♡ My soulmate ♡

by Hawkinsbabe (Multishippers)



Series: ♡ Shoutout to my rare pairs (prompts)♡ [5]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied Reddie - Freeform, M/M, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Platonic Soulmates, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Romantic Soulmates, and more - Freeform, implied stanlon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multishippers/pseuds/Hawkinsbabe
Summary: Prompt: Ohhhhh, what about 42. Star crossed lovers with Stozier?? :D↛ sent by oldguybones via tumblr





	♡ My soulmate ♡

Richie felt numb as he laid on the floor of his shared apartment with Bill, bloody nose running off the side of his face onto the bright tiled floor of the bathroom. He almost didn’t feel the beating of his bruised cheek or the burning of the cut on the side of his eyes. All he felt was nothing, as if the endorphins in his brain had overloaded and exploded, leaving him with the same feeling as the one he had had when he had broken his leg jumping off a tree to prove Stan he could fly. For once, he didn’t need morphine to stop feeling. Which he should be grateful for. But he wasn’t. Not when the trigger of his adrenaline was in the same room with him, slowly melting away the effect of the powerful druglike trance he wanted to be in.

“You need to stop fighting everyone you see dumbass.”

He heard vaguely, sounding too distant for the actual proximity they were. What he did hear perfectly, that shook inside of him, was the heavy sigh that left him and the clear pout he could hear in every word amidst his closed eyes. Just like he didn’t need to open his eyes to feel the man crouching down at his side before he felt newfound wetness dragging across his face. Richie’s hand twitched at his side, wanting nothing but to push the person away as his body seemingly started to wake up from its painless slumber. But he once again wasn’t able too. He already was in too deep. The touch was so gentle, scared to put too much pressure upon his beaten face, especially seeing the wince that came along as he hovered over the cut near his eyebrow with the alcohol.

“Haven’t you heard Staniel? It’s my kink, a little S&M action here and there.”

“It’s not funny Richie.”

“Boohoo, yes it was.”

Stan’s hand swiftly collided with Richie’s thigh that was close to him, not in any harsh way, just enough to make the boy welp in surprise. A welp that, in the matter of milliseconds, turned into an over the top moan.

“Yes. Harder Daddy-o, harder.”

“I’m serious Rich!” Except Richie could hear him bite back a smile, and when he did open his eyes, sure enough, they met those pearly white teeth digging into the plushness of those fuschia lips. And just like that, his heart sank while a longing feeling bloomed inside of him.

He wanted nothing more than to be the one to bite those lips, to taste that stupid minty lip balm Stan put on almost every thirty minutes, to let their tongue battle for dominance until one of them broke. He longed to hear the smallest whimper that would escape him whenever he would suck a hickey right below his ear, longed for the way warmth would flood his lower stomach at the sound and for the way Stan’s long fingers would twist around his curls. He needed to feel the weight of his body close to him again, feel his heartbeat against his hand and lips. Richie craved the feeling of his moisturized hands manhandling him in a hurry and desperation like they did so many times before.

“You’re going to get really hurt if you continue like that.”

Those words rang too clear into the bathroom, the ounce of smile that had been displayed before evaporated just as fast as it came, much like his own that somehow came to be amidst the melancholic feeling that had inhabited him as he heard the sentence bounce against the blue toned walls.

“Can’t really get worse than it already is,” Richie whispered before the room fell silent and heavy. The air around them shifted and became almost painfully sharp as it entered both men. Stan looked down at him, but he didn’t _see_ him. Richie knew it because he avoided his gaze like the plague, instead, concentrating on treating his wounds.

“Don’t say that.” Stan almost pleaded, as if he could feel the cracks in Richie’s heart deepening. Maybe, chasing after him had been the wrong move after all, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

The touch of rough fingers against his wrist startled him out of his thought before he even dived in, eyes immediately flying to the tattoo that appeared there on his 18 birthday; Michael Hanlon.

The tattoo that changed everything.

Kisses, lingering touches, started to burn the longer they lasted, started to leave imprints and scars as a result of their ‘adultery’. It was frowned upon for people to date before their 18 birthday but in the cases that it would happen, it was known that non-soulmate had to stop any and every intercourse they may have had before the name appears to them, else injuries occurred. For the first year or so, amidst the pain in both their heart at the revelation that they weren’t soulmates, amidst the ache in every bone of their body whenever they stood too close or held hands, they dated. They covered up their wrist so people wouldn’t know. Until it became life-threatening. Until one day Richie got down with a fever that kept going up as the days went by. And then Stan left, with a heavy heart and suitcase full of everything that was Richie; a few of his stupid Hawaiian button-ups, the plushies he’d won for him over the years, the watch he had gotten him on his 17 birthday, he selfishly took more pictures than he should’ve and Richie’s perfume. He left before the fever could’ve reached 110°F, before Richie’s body deteriorated so much that it started to convulse before he started to lose more blood with his nose constantly bleeding. The only thing he left was his favorite bird-patterned pullover, his own perfume and a  letter downstairs for when he would be ready and called Eddie, hoping his presence would cool the fever.

“Do you remember when you’d let me write my name there?” Richie asked, brown eyes lifting slowly to stare at those stormy colored ones he grew up to love a little too much. His stare was never reciprocated, the blond man nodding his head slowly as he swallowed thickly.

“I was in love with the idea of you being my soulmate.”

The words had come out so softly, softer than they ever had in a while for Stan, that much both of them knew, and yet it still cut like a knife. Because it wasn’t the words Stan wanted to say and it wasn’t the words Richie wanted to hear but they both knew what he meant. The words, although soft, were too heavy to only mean that.

“I still have my paper to legally change my name to Michael Hanlon.” He said, sounding like a joke, even if he was serious. He’s been serious about it since the name appeared on Stan. The realization had hit then, that the name that was going to be displayed on his very own wrist wasn’t going to be ‘Stanley Uris’ and he hadn’t been okay with it since then. He fell too hard for his best friend, enjoyed years along his side, loved every second of it. But would he take it all away if he could? _Would he do it all over again knowing the outcome?_

Stan’s hand was strategically placed on his bruised cheek, thumb soothingly running across his cheekbone, careful as to not hurt him, and not long after he could feel the burning sensation of his lips against his forehead. It hurts, physically, and yet Richie hasn’t been this serene in years. It left a red imprint of the plush lips against the milky forehead, but Stan didn’t take notice as he let his lips travel to the tip of Richie’s freckled nose and then nothing. Nothing until Richie launched forward, both of his bruised hands cupping the man's face. With the hurry he had been in, Stan expected a rough kiss, and yet the lips were feather-light and the kiss was painstakingly slow as if Richie was savoring the metallic taste of his busted lips and the mintiness of Stan’s lip balm that melted against the heat.

“In my heart, your name is there and-”

He heard Stan whispered against his lips, the air fanning over feeling much cooler than the fire that was ignited where the still touched while a newfound burn made its way to his wrist, where Stan could feel the letters spelling out ‘Edward Kaspbrak’ and the many strikes that had been dug in a desperate attempt to erase it, “mine is here.”

_Yes. Yes, he would._

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ A big thank you to [El](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deasar) for beta-ing this little something ♡  
> ♡ Kudos and Feedbacks are more than appreciated ♡  
> 


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